


We're All The Hustle

by ManicLadyfire



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Rock Band, M/M, Tags May Change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-21
Updated: 2019-11-25
Packaged: 2020-12-27 19:23:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21123938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ManicLadyfire/pseuds/ManicLadyfire
Summary: The way Ian tells the story, he jokes that the first time he met Mickey Milkovich he mistook him for a roadie. Mickey tells a slightly different story, and it's definitely more personal. Mickey says that the first time he met Ian Gallagher; they hadn't actually yet met face to face at all.





	1. Lighting Strikes Maybe Once, Maybe Twice

_Excerpt from Rolling Stone, "School is Out: The Real Story Behind AfterSchool Special _

_The way Ian tells the story, he jokes that the first time he met Mickey Milkovich he mistook him for a roadie. Mickey tells a slightly different story, and it's definitely more personal. Mickey says that the first time he met Ian Gallagher; they hadn't actually yet met face to face at all._

_Mickey will tell you somewhat reluctantly, and at Ian's prodding, that this whole mess started (as he puts it affectionately, this writer thinks) the first time he heard Ian's voice. He was covering "Gypsy" by Fleetwood Mac during a sound check at Outside Lands, which Mickey happened to be backstage to overhear. He was immediately drawn to the voice, and then later on, to the guitar player to whom it belonged. However, it would be a long time before they actually made any music together._

_It would be two years, a tumultuous start to their relationship, and a surprise coming out, that would thrust Ian and Mickey into the limelight following stints, ironically, as musicians for both their sisters, Ian playing guitar in Fiona and The Hustle, second generation rock royalty. Mickey was the drummer for M's Revenge, an upstart alt-rock group out of Chicago. Their story begins with that fateful meeting in San Francisco..._

**Two Years Earlier**

If you had told Mickey that he and his sister Mandy's band, the curiously named M's Revenge, would be playing one of the countries' biggest music festivals, he would have told you to shut the fuck up. Then he might have punched you in the face.

This Mickey, the one pacing nervously backstage in San Francisco, was too concerned with the fact that someone else was setting up his drum kit, and he didn't like it one fucking bit.

Mandy had told him this was their life now, _assface, _and that they were _musicians _now, they didn't have to set up their own shit anymore. It still didn't sit well with Mickey, so he paced, a half-gone cigarette perched between his lips.

The Milkovich siblings had been raised to do for themselves, trust only each other (except when it came to their father Terry), and the idea of someone else, no matter how cool they seemed touching his shit made him itchy. He didn't think he's ever get used to it. End of story.

The band that they were opening for was in the middle of doing their sound check, and then it would be Mickey, Mandy, and their bass player Jeff's turn to do a run through and check their equipment. Mickey didn't even know the name of the band they were opening for, not that he gave a shit, he was anxious to play, then head back to the hotel, get drunk, and go to sleep. In some order.

He remembered hearing that the band they were opening for consisted of siblings as well, they were some sort of big shit in the music scene because their mother had been famous or something. Mickey didn't really pay attention to the details, but their manager thought the idea of Mandy's Revenge opening for them kitschy and fun. Mickey scoffed. They weren't fucking kitschy, and while playing was fun, they didn't come to San Francisco to play second fiddle for the fucking Partridge Family, that much was for sure. When he said this out loud to their manager Stu, Mandy had given him the side eye, and pinched his arm. It seemed he had missed the point.

Needless to say, Mickey was on his third cigarette in the spell of 15 minutes when a thin, curly-haired brunette chick in cut-off shorts walked out barefoot from behind the stage curtain, and reached for a toddler wearing headphones that were way too big for her from the lap of some big ass dude with a ponytail. The kid was black, and the chick was not, so Mickey thought that was interesting. She bounced the kid on her hip, and had an exasperated look on her face. Then she brightened as she lifted the kid with a grunt.

"Damn, Gemma is getting heavy!" she said, like it was such a surprise that a kid half her fucking size might be heavy. She ruffled the girl's hair, and they both giggled. "I don't know how much longer I can carry you for, sweetheart!" She looked over at Ponytail Dude, and rolled her eyes. "Just give him a few more minutes, Kev. Apparently, he's got some shit he needs to work out today." The guy with the ponytail laughed and nodded, and the lady with the kid disappeared off in the direction of the trailers.

_Fuckin prima donnas,_ Mickey thought to himself. _You give them an inch and they take a fuckin mile._ He was in the middle of lighting his next cigarette since he apparently had more time to kill when guitar strumming drifted through the curtains. _Yeah, working shit out. Must be an emo little bitch. _Then the voice started singing:

"_So I'm back to the velvet underground,_

_Back to the floor that I love_

_To a room with some lace and paper flowers_

_Back to the gypsy that I was, to the gypsy that I was..."_

Mickey doesn't realize that he's just standing there staring the curtain until his cig burns out and singes his fingers. The voice had started softly, it would have been a whisper even if it hadn't been for the microphone, but as it continued, so did the volume.

The guy's voice was warm and smooth, made Mickey think about warm syrup over pancakes, it was soothing, and yet just a little bit haunted. The melody slid over Mickey's body like a warm summer shower, leaving goose bumps down his arms in its wake. He didn't recognize that song, it was much too slow, too sappy to be something that Mickey would actually choose to listen to, but his voice, well his voice was something Mickey might be able to listen to forever. He shivered at the thought. Mickey didn't do forever, and he hadn't even seen the body attached to that voice yet. He thought about walking away, going back to the bus to find Mandy and Jeff, but he was stuck to the spot.

Realizing he had been there standing frozen, Mickey shook his head to clear his thoughts. He looked over at Ponytail to see if he had noticed, but dude was on his phone with his back turned whining about how much someone's about wanting to go to Disneyland with his kids. Mickey shuddered, and tried to block both him and the music out. He couldn’t be standing there mooning over some dude he hadn't even seen just because he could recognize he had a great voice. Fuck, he couldn't be standing here mooning over some dude at all.

It wasn't that Mickey was in the closet, and since his homophobic, piece of shit father Terry died, he had been free to do what he wanted with whom he wanted, but for Mickey it still wasn't that simple. Growing up with Terry had taught him that being gay wasn't safe, it wasn't just something you could blurt out whenever you wanted (that, and feelings, for fuck's sake), so he fucked random dudes in random bars in even more random towns when they toured, and that was that. He liked it that way. Mickey wasn't looking for a relationship, he liked what he liked, but he wasn't for a hot minute going to be someone's little bitch. He was still a Milkovich, after all, and even with Terry dead and gone, and his older brothers scattered except for Iggy, old habits die hard. Leave it to Mandy to fuck shit up. Mickey should have known better.

The music out front was winding down when Ponytail turned around, and not even glancing at Mickey said into the phone, "Okay, Babe, I got to go. Ian's just about done, and we've got to clear out for the next band."

_Fuck yes you do,_ Mickey thought to himself. But his brain caught on another word the man had spoken.

_Ian. _That voice belonged to a guy named Ian. 

Ponytail smiled into the phone. "I love you too, Momma. Yeah, see you in a few." He put the phone back in his pocket, and looked over and nodded at Mickey. "How's it going, man?"

Mickey nodded in return. "Sup."

Ponytail made his way through the curtain. Thank fuck.

Mickey was about to continue his pacing, (not willing to admit to himself that he wanted to see what sort of face went with the voice on the other side of the curtain) when two hands gripped his shoulders from behind. Without thinking, Mickey threw an elbow into his assailant's side, causing an angry "Fuck!" and a fierce slap to the head from Mandy. She was wearing black leather pants, and tight black corseted top, which showed off a toned and porcelain midriff. Mickey wanted to tell her that maybe she wouldn't attract such assholes is she wasn't always dressing like that all the time, but she was his sister and he wasn't ashamed of her, or to admit he loved her, so he decided how she wanted to dress was her business. Mandy rubbed at her side, and caused Mickey to grin when she slapped him again.

"Geez Mickey, what the fuck? I got this wicked hot outfit I'm wearing for the show, you can't just be giving me bruises every time I walk up behind you!" She snarled. Mickey returned her look with a sneer. Mandy knew how much he hated being snuck up on. Too many years at the mercy of an abusive father had left both the youngest Milkovich siblings skittish, and always watching their backs.

"Shut the fuck up, bitch. That's what you get for creeping up behind me!"

Mandy laughed, and flipped her raven hair and blue streaked hair over her shoulder. Mandy was one of the few women that didn't travel with someone to do her hair and makeup, and honestly, she didn't need anyone. Mickey might not pay a lot of attention to women (he was never particular when it came to the ones he had to fuck), but he knew his sister had her makeup game down.

"Whatever, asshole, quit being so fucking paranoid all the time." She kicked him in the shin to drive her point home. "No one is trying to jump you. People here came to hear us play." She paused and grabbed Mickey by both shoulders. "They came to hear us play!" She squealed, jumping up and down.

Sometimes Mickey marveled at how well Mandy had taken to their pseudo-celebrity. Sure, they both still waited for the other shoe to drop, but when Mandy stood behind that mic stand, the guitar Mickey had bought for her slung over her shoulder, Mickey on drums, and Jeff on bass, it was the best life ever. He was willing to ride the wave as long as it carried them.

As they stood there with Mandy bouncing up and down, Mickey realized the music on the stage stopped, and presumed source of the voice was walking through the curtain. Ponytail was behind him, carrying what he assumed was Ian's guitar, and talking to him in whispered tones. This Ian nodded, his mouth a thin line, and neither man noticing yet the siblings standing off to their left.

Mickey took this opportunity to take a good look at the man whose voice had him spun. For one thing, he was tall as fuck, lanky but Mickey could see the lean muscles even under his plaid shirt, which matched a pair of piercing blue-green eyes. To top it off, he had a rat's nest of flaming ginger hair, just a mess of curls and straightened pieces sticking out in every direction. He looked like he hadn't washed it in a week. A slight scruff of stubble. The kid was hot like burning, a face sprinkled with freckles, pale skin, fucking perfect. He was a right combination of everything that turned Mickey on, and a few unexpected things. Like the hair.

The redhead turned, and locked eyes with Mickey. It was like being hit with a thunderbolt. The ginger's eyes had been flat when he had looked in Mickey's direction, but now they were filled with curiosity. Mickey bit at the inner corner of his mouth, and tried to act nonchalant while staring over Mandy's shoulder, but when she saw the look on his face, Mandy turned around and squealed again. Her reaction to seeing the other man was certainly not going to help matters.

"IANNN!" Mandy screamed, right in Mickey's probably now ruptured ear, and took off running to the other man. Much to Mickey's chagrin, when _Ian_ saw Mandy heading towards him the redhead beamed, picked her up, and spun her around.

_Of fucking course,_ Mickey thought to himself. _Another boy toy for Mandy. _He wondered to himself how they already knew each other, though Mandy had never been shy when a hot guy was involved. It would figure that eventually he and his sister would be attracted to the same guy. Mickey looked away, rubbing at his forehead in an attempt to reign in the awkwardness. _If Mandy starts making out with this guy I might just kill the both of them, _Mickey thought to himself_._

"Mandy, hey," Ian said putting her back down on the ground, glancing briefly with interest in Mickey's direction. "When did you get in? I was hoping to see you last night at the hotel?

"Yeah, that was the plan, but the jerkoffs I'm traveling with didn't get on the bus until noon." This earned an eye roll from Mickey. "You know that I-5 traffic is a bitch."

"True, true." Ian said, and Mickey couldn't help but snort. The ginger seemed like too much of a fucking boy scout for Mandy, but apparently his sister put her mind to something, especially if it was guy, then watch out. She was a killer.

Ian turned to Ponytail who had been standing quietly behind him and gestured towards Mandy.

"Kev, this is Mandy Milkovich. She's the lead singer of -"

Kev interrupted him. "Yeah, M's Revenge, I saw your picture on the website's lineup. I'm Kevin Ball," he reached out to shake Mandy's hand, also throwing a nod in Mickey's

direction. "I'm the crew manager."

"Yeah, Kev and his wife Vee, go all the way back with us. Vee's actually in the band. They take good care of us." Kev beamed at the praise, and with a wave wandered off down the stage stairs.

Finally, Ian's gaze settled on Mickey, who at this point was beyond bored with the conversation, and a little bit annoyed. The other's man's stare made the back of his neck warm, - _was there a hint of smolder in his eyes? - _and Mickey thumbed nervously at his lip. Mandy looked between the two men, and suddenly laughed.

"Shit, I'm such an asshole!" She grabbed at Ian's arm and dragged him towards Mickey. "Ian, this suddenly taciturn fuck is my brother Mickey. He's our drummer that hates other humans that I've told you about." She turned to her brother, wondering why the fuck Mickey was just decided standing there. "Mickey, this is Ian Gallagher. He plays guitar for Fiona and The Hustle, the band we're opening for. Fiona is his older sister, and their brother Carl plays drums too."

"Hiya Mick," Ian said, smiling broadly, and thrusting his hand into Mickey's. Mickey shook back, a pulsing pop of electricity running up his arm. He pulled his hand back, reached into his pocket for a cigarette. The guy was hot, that was for sure, but Mickey wasn't about to let a goofy looking kid get under his skin.

"How's it going, man?" Mickey said. "How do you and my sister know each other?" He didn't realize how menacing he made that sound until Mandy leveled a hard smack to the back of his head, and Ian laughed.

"Ouch, bitch! What was that for?" He rubbed at his head, being careful not to mess up his hair. No one messed with Mickey's hair, and he wasn't about to let Mandy start now. He threw a glance at Ian, and found the other man's eyes crinkled and gleaming at the show of sibling violence.

"It's okay, Mickey," Ian started, recognizing Mickey's over protectiveness, hell; he felt it towards his own sisters. Even the older, _supposedly_ wiser Fiona. Ian was also secretly entertained because neither Milkovich knew that of the two of them Mandy would not be the one he was interested in _at all. "_Mandy and I started video chatting a couple weeks ago." He ran his hands through his hair nervously, which did nothing to cure its chaos, and scuffed at his beat-up canvas high-tops with his feet. As Mickey watched him, he saw more and more that the kid was a harmless dork. A big, hot, awkward puppy, but still a dork.

"I saw the final lineup for all the performers a few weeks ago, and when I saw that you guys were opening for us, and that we were on the same label, so I reached out to see how I could get in touch with the band. "I really like your music, and Mandy's really great, -" He smiled at Mandy, who surprisingly smiled back. Mickey wasn't used to seeing his sister be so upbeat, and almost, well, perky. The two were clearly on their way to being besties, or worse.

"- And so I emailed Mandy, and they we started chatting over FaceTime." He threw his hands up looking sheepishly at Mickey. "Totally innocent, I promise."

"Yeah, yeah," Mickey said. "Nothing’s completely innocent when it comes to my sister."

The remark earned him another dirty look from Mandy, and a shove, but there wasn't heat behind either.

* * *

Mickey was still coming down off the high of playing in front of 60,000 people when he all but collided with a giant. It was Ian.

Just beyond them on the stage, someone was announcing Fiona & The Hustle. Mickey couldn't help but laugh. "So, uh, I've been wondering -" Mickey started, taking a step away from the other man. "You supposed to be the hustle?" Mickey asked slyly. He knew what the ginger wanted him to say, but Mickey wasn't easy. He wasn't about to just give it up like that, even if every nerve in his body wanted to.

Ian suddenly had a hopeful, goofy smile on his face. Fiona walked past pulling him to towards the stage by his shirt.

“C'mon, Ian, it's time.”

“Yeah Fi, I'm coming.”

Ian brushed past Mickey, a little too close for the shorter man’s liking, ghosting fingers along Mickeys arm.

“Mick, we’re all the hustle.”

Mickey took a step away, and ran his hand down his arm where Gallagher had touched him. He smirked, and watched Ian walk towards the stage. At least the flirtation wouldn't continue past the night, but it was fun while it lasted.

"Good luck out there, Red." He calls out after him, just to be a shit, wanting to see if he could throw the cocky fucker off his game.

Mickey realizes the mistake he's made when Ian turns to look back at him. The ginger's eyes were warm, but a little mischievous, and the casual smirk on his face said he had won a game Mickey hadn’t even realized they’d been playing. He threw a wink at Mickey, and disappeared behind the roaring curtain.

Mickey exhaled hard at the breath he hadn't realized he was holding. He was so fucked.


	2. ...And It All Comes Down To You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ian's POV

Ian was having a terrible day.

They had gotten into San Francisco the night before, stayed up too late, and now he was exhausted, and probably coasting into another depression. It didn't help that he was coming off _another _breakup. Another breakup he couldn't talk about because he was in a band with a certain amount of familial notoriety, and because it had been a relationship with another man.

Ian wasn't in the closet, but he wasn't running around shouting his sexuality from the rooftops either. It didn't help that his brother Lip had recommended that he keep his sexuality private, and as the older of the four brothers _and_ The Hustle's manager, Ian knew he didn't have a whole lot of room to argue.

"It just creates more mystery, man." Lip had said as if whom Ian was involved with had a direct correlation on the number of albums the band sold. Hell, he wasn't even the main draw of the band, it was Fiona. Their name was Fiona & The Hustle, and if the operation wasn't a hustle, Ian didn't know what was.

It wasn't that he didn't like being in the band, in fact, he loved it. Not so much the fame aspect, but the chance to get up on stage most nights and just play. That was his job, his only responsibility. Get up on stage, play the guitar, and smile. Some days it was the smiling part that was hardest to do. Especially when he felt like he was lying to the people that believed in them. Believed in him. The fans.

Sometime during the last few years, between appearances on late night shows and touring all the big summer music festivals, Ian had managed pick up a solid female fan base. Much to his chagrin, they found the quiet guitarist "dreamy", "sweet", and "hot". They weren't so concerned with how well he played, but how he looked when was doing it. He was often categorized in magazine articles and reviews as "the shy one" as if he was a member of a fucking boy band. Lip decided this was the perfect thing capitalize on, though it was blatantly untrue. Ian wasn’t shy; it was just that he didn't have a lot to say to reporters. That was Fiona's job, she was the star, the one everyone was interested in, but Lip saw to it that Ian appeared in music issues of _Nylon, Seventeen, _and worst of all _Teen Beat. _Most days it made Ian feel like an object, but some days he just felt like a whore.

Meanwhile, the Internet was rife with rumors, he was rarely seen out with women that weren't Fiona or their younger sister Debbie. Many attributed this to manufactured shyness. Others assumed correctly that he was gay, closeted, and most likely hiding it from his family. The truth was somewhere just left of the middle.

Ian just didn't have many friends outside of the Gallagher family, which included by default their crew and road manager Kev, and his wife Vee, The Hustle’s keyboard player. Everyone that mattered knew Ian was gay, but he wasn't interested in being a spokesperson, and Lip had convinced Fi that Ian (i.e. the band) didn't need the extra scrutiny and gossip.

In reality, every dirty little thing Ian Gallagher has ever done is common knowledge, as long as you knew where to look for it. He kind of gave the term “poor little rich boy” a whole new meaning. Not that he considered himself a victim of his sibling’s desire for success or of their family fame. Lip was Ian's best friend, and he knew that in his heart Lip only wanted what was best for him. Even if he could be a fucking asshole about it sometimes. Maybe Ian really did need more friends. Specifically, friends he wasn’t related to.

That's why it couldn't have come at a better time that when the lineup for Outside Lands came out he saw that Mandy's Revenge was opening for them. The grunge-alt band had been on the scene just a few years less than the Hustle, and unlike the Gallagher’s who grew up in the biz, the Milkovich siblings had crawled their way up from the gutter that was Chicago's South Side. It created a unique connection for Ian. Monica and Frank, the Gallagher's wayward parents were South Side, but that had been long before any of the kids came along.

Ian still found the connection interesting. Maybe if Monica hadn't met Frank and Frank’s then manager/brother Clayton, none of them would have been famous, and Ian and his siblings would have grown up neighbors with the Milkovich's. Maybe they would have even been friends. Well, they were becoming friends now.

For all her snarls and baton wielding, Mandy was surprisingly fun and easy to talk with. Going from gig to gig on their respective buses (Fiona being afraid to fly), left plenty of time for Ian and Mandy to text, which eventually left to the touring musicians' version of meeting through FaceTime. Both already knew what the other looked like, that was what the internet and television was for, but they both just giggled like kids upon seeing each other for the first time.

Over the past couple weeks, both had shared a lot about their lives, but they both knew the other was holding back as well. Ian kept the stories that came along with growing up with money in LA to a minimum, and didn't tell Mandy he was gay, or the fact that he was bipolar, a fucked-up present he had inherited from his mother. He didn't talk much about Monica either, and never, ever about Frank.

Mandy asked one afternoon, as the Gallagher's passed through the panhandle of Texas, and the Milkovich's were playing in St. Louis, if he was dating anyone. Ian knew how he looked, he knew what the press said about him. It was innocent enough, but Ian had flushed, and said he barely had time to sleep, let alone date. Mandy dropped the subject, and it didn't come back up later. He hoped, for the sake of their friendship, that there was no intent behind the question.

In reality, Ian had been seeing a guy named Adam, who was an up and coming TV actor. Adam was also deep in the closet, and could be seen every other weekend out and about with a different girl. Adam was trying to climb the Hollywood food chain, and he was willing to date whatever chick it took to do it. He was also the only guy that Ian had seen that Lip didn't make sign an NDA, because the threat of career destruction was higher for Adam than it was for Ian. Now, that the relationship was winding down, and Ian wished he had never met him. He was beyond over it. He hated hiding.

Mandy too, also told few stories from her childhood. She told Ian that she had that she had four older brothers, and how she was the baby the of the family. She told him that her mother died when she was young, and that her father died right before they formed the band. She was clearly more upset about her mom's death than her dad's, and Ian didn't question that; he knew what it was like to grow up with a piece of shit for a dad. One night when Ian was home in LA, and Mandy and the boys were playing in New York, she talked about the anger in their performances was fueled by the struggle of growing up on the Southside of Chicago. Even coming from different backgrounds, Ian understood the importance place had played in his own development.

That's why it was a welcome respite to finally meet Mandy in person. He had been so drained lately, between the tour they were currently on, and the one that was upcoming, and the implosion of his relationship with Adam. Sure, it had only been a few months, and Ian wondered how he could even call it a relationship when it was a collection of hookups and few dinners at Adam's place. Never the Gallagher house. A couple sleepovers where they sat on the couch like a normal couple, but they were never normal.

Now that it was finally over (a text from Adam saying he was going to try and "make it work" with the latest flavor of the month, a lingerie model), and Ian wished he felt more relieved. Instead he felt mostly adrift, and deeply unwanted. At least he had the music to fall back on.

* * *

Fiona wrote most of the songs for The Hustle, sometimes with input from Ian, but most of the time, he was happy to stick to the background, strumming along to her clear, bell-like voice until a song came together. Ian had never felt the pull to try and write songs for the band, to write songs of his own, so when he did sing, it was whatever song fit his mood.

That afternoon, after they finished warming up, Ian picked Fleetwood Mac's "Gypsy." He chose it because it was how he felt, he was gypsy, living on a bus for most of the year surrounded by half of his siblings in a bizarre caravan of sorts. He was waiting for lightning to strike. He needed lightning to strike. Anything to break him out of this funk.

There was a sea of thousands of people beyond the stage, but Ian was invisible to them with Halsey playing on the Twin Peaks stage.

_“He was just a wish,_   
_ And his memory is all that is left for you now._   
_ You see you're a gypsy…_   
_ You see you're a gypsy.”_

He was just finishing when he felt someone standing behind him. _Kev, _he thought to himself. He turned and nodded at the taller man.

"It's time to go, Ian. The other band's waiting. Their roadie looks like he might beat my ass, and he's tiny!"

Ian snorts. Always on the run, always in a rush. "Yeah, Kev, I'm done."

The other man reaches for Ian's guitar, which Ian let him take. He knows Kev means well, Ian knows how much he takes care of the Gallagher's, but right now he can't bring himself to care.

They walk through the curtain, Kev grips Ian's arm. He looks at Kev, and bites his lips together. He knows what's coming.

"Dude, I know you've been having a rough time lately," the other man says in hushed tones. "I'm here for you, Ian. You know that."

"Yeah, Kev, I know. Thanks." He says as sincerely as he can.

That’s when he turns and sees him. Talk about lightning strikes.

Slicked back, jet black hair. Crystal blue eyes. Wearing a cutoff Melvins t-shirt with his arms crossed. He's staring at Ian like he's never seen water and Ian is an oasis, completely ignoring the woman talking with her back to the other men. Blue Eyes bites his lip like he wants to look away, but can't. It's fine, Ian doesn't want him too.

Finally, the woman stops talking, and turns around to see what her companion is looking at; it's Mandy.

Ian was so fucked.


	3. Update!

Hi y'all,

I have not abandoned this story. Unfortunately, grad school is getting the best of me but it's only a couple weeks until break! I'll be back with more soon.

Thanks to everyone who has read, left kudos, and commented so far!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updating the week of Dec. 9th! See you soon.

**Author's Note:**

> Updates every Monday!
> 
> I'm not a Shameless blog anymore, but come flail with me on Tumblr!


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